


Of Sand and Feathers

by MidnightSpade



Category: One Piece
Genre: Bondage, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Rope Bondage, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightSpade/pseuds/MidnightSpade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles for my OTP, Crocodile and Doflamingo. Most are mature to explicit, exploring random aspects of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweet Torture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashford2ashford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashford2ashford/gifts).



> Written for my partner-in-crime and dear friend Ashford2Ashford, who is the one who inspires me for all the shenanigans with these two.

Ropes cutting into wrists, leaving welts that would remain as a reminder, securing hands and preventing fingers from wandering. Long limbs stretched across a long bed, muscles pulled taut with no room for movement beyond writhing and tensing. Soft thin lines scratched across tanned skin with a golden hook, dotted with tiny orbs of blood that trailed down creating paths of red across his back.

Doflamingo always looked the best tied up and gagged. Unable to make a sound other than moaning and drooling, Crocodile was spared the inane ramblings that usually spilled forth from the taller man's mouth, although it was obvious the blonde did try. All he could make were burbles of words that Crocodile couldn't make out beyond the chanting and moaning of his name like a heavenly prayer.

He'd drag his hook over his skin, creating maps and marks across his flesh that would be dotted with red, making muscles twitch and tense, accompanied by groans muffled by a gag and a pillow. Sometimes instead of his hook across his skin it'd be a knife, and sometimes neither. Sir Crocodile always took advantage of their meetings when he had the time to play with his meal before devouring it. Not that he didn't like the times where he had to rush with a flurry of hands and legs and biting, fingernails across skin and bruises in the morning. He simply preferred when he could take things at a much more luxurious and torturous pace.

Torturous for the damned flamingo anyway.


	2. Sight and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I like sub!Doffy too much...

It was rare he would get the damned bird in this kind of mood, but when he did, Sir Crocodile enjoyed it to the fullest extent that he could. Usually enjoyed reclining back on the bed, signature cigar between his teeth as the lanky blonde bounced up and down on his cock, drooling around the bar in his mouth, alternating between tossing his head back and then rolling forwards to rest his chin on his chest, saliva dripping down his torso, a blindfold wrapped around his eyes to block what sight he had left.

With arms bound behind his back in an elaborate rope pattern (made with green ropes, not pink this time), Doflamingo could do nothing more than work his long legs to raise himself up and down, Crocodile's thick shaft moving in and out of him at whatever speed he could move himself. The ex-Warlord did nothing to help his movements, leaving it up to him to set the pace, to show how desperate he was for that cock to be shoved up his ass, with his own leaking steadily over the two of them.

"Good boy." Crocodile purred, his voice a low rumble in his chest, sending shudders up Doflamingo's spine just from the sound of it. 

As his sight was gone and speak impaired, his senses of touch and sound were multiplied to pleasurable levels of intoxication, meaning every word, every sound, every slight touch was like fireworks in his veins, making the blonde rock more frantically, slam himself down harder on the cock filling him, as if desperate to show the man below him just how mad he was for him.


End file.
